


This Would Be A Good Time

by bluestalking



Category: The Demon's Covenant, The Demon's Lexicon
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-25
Updated: 2010-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:43:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestalking/pseuds/bluestalking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alan said, "It doesn't matter, though, does it? You don't love humans. Not even me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Would Be A Good Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feverbeats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/gifts).



> Spoilers for The Demon's Lexicon and The Demon's Covenant.

Alan wanted him to go to the funeral.

"Why should I?" Nick asked. Alan's mouth twisted on one side like he was annoyed, but Nick meant it. Why should he pretend to feel sorry about a dead human woman? Standing around like that would be uncomfortable, and besides, he'd only met her a few times. He used to kill humans all the time. He never stood around pretending to feel sorry for them.

"Mae would like it," Alan said, frowning.

"No she wouldn't," said Nick. "Not if I really went."

"Yes she would," Alan said. He frowned harder.

"I don't want to," Nick said flatly. "I'm not going."

Alan let the frown go and sighed, like he wasn't that surprised.

It didn't bother Nick that Alan wasn't forcing the issue. It did bother Nick that he didn't understand the problem. He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you want me to?" he asked.

"I told you," Alan said, looking out through the window where nothing was happening. "It would make Mae happy."

"Wouldn't you rather handle that without me?" Nick asked bluntly.

Alan's head whipped around.

"What do you mean?" he asked. He was angry. So easy to do. Nick wished he could at least tell when he was about to do it.

"You still want her, don't you?" Nick said. He smiled. It would be enough to send most people packing, but Alan didn't flinch. "Maybe you can get her to stop drooling after me, if you show her your sexy wiles."

"It's a funeral, Nick," Alan said sharply, but his cheeks were flushed. "Her mother's funeral. That's not—"

"But you still would, right?" Nick asked. He didn't know why he was pushing. He didn't even know what he was angry about. It wasn't Mae. Nick didn't mind Mae, mostly, but she was—just another human. It shouldn't even have been Alan. Alan was Nick's. Nothing in the world threatened that.

Nick was angry anyway. He smiled wider.

Alan snapped, "No, I wouldn't," and looked around for something to organize. Since he couldn't organize Nick. He'd already organized the dishes out of existence, though, and the floor was sparkling, too. Nick was particularly unorganizeable today.

"Why not?" Nick pushed. "She's pretty, isn't she? And smart too, right? And she likes you. Why don't you just tell her what she wants, and—"

"Shut _up_ ," Alan said. His eyes were flashing now. Nick's anger banked, interested, ready to flare as soon as Alan took a step in any direction.

"I did like Mae," said Alan. "I liked Mae when she was just a girl in a bookshop and I was just—" He stopped dead, and pursed his mouth in a flat line.

"Just what?" Nick purred. "Just a shop boy with a little limp and no demon for a brother?"

"YES," Alan exploded, banging his fist on the table. "What do you want me to say? _YES._ "

Nick felt the anger drop out from under him quite suddenly. He said, "I don't know. That, maybe." That. Definitely. Because it was comforting. Because Alan _did_ have a demon for a brother, and that was as permanent as the limp. Because Nick was fact, and Mae. . .

"You already know I won't leave," Alan said, sitting with a thump. "I don't know why you have to try so hard to make me."

. . . wasn't a threat.

"I'm not," Nick said. And then he was tongue-tied. "I'm not, I don't want, you wouldn't—"

"No," said Alan tiredly. "I wouldn't. But—" But Nick was rubbing it in, what Alan couldn't have.

"I'm not leaving you either," Nick said. There was an uncomfortable feeling crawling down his throat into his stomach. Nick hurt people a lot, but Alan wasn't people. Alan was Nick's. Alan was Nick's reason for staying. Alan was Nick's—Alan was a lot of what was Nick's.

Alan smiled at him, but it was strained.

 _The worst thing you can possibly do is seem like you don't care,_ Mae had said.

"I just don't want you to be alone," Nick said quickly. "If you wanted—more people—people who are—" _Not me. Human._

Alan shook his head. He was still smiling, but Nick didn't think he looked happy. "I'm not alone," Alan said. "And I have other people. People who are." He did look more like himself, then. Nick fidgeted.

"Anyway," Alan said, and then something that Nick didn't hear very well.

"What?" he said.

"I said," Alan started, and then cleared his throat. "I said even if I did—get together with Mae. I'd probably spend the whole time just thinking about you anyway."

 _Because you stayed and you're still ruining his life,_ Nick thought. _Because you're so much trouble. Because he's afraid of what you'll do when his back is turned._ And then he noticed his heart beating faster than normal, and _then_ he noticed the blood rising back into Alan's face.

For a few seconds, Nick couldn't think of anything.

"Well, it's true I'm prettier than Mae," he joked, and then lost the smile off his face because it _was_ true. Not that she was prettier. What Nick was saying. The way Alan wasn't answering.

"Am I your rival?" Nick asked, voice rough. "Or is Mae?"

"You're my _brother,_ " Alan said, choking on it.

"No I'm not," Nick said, staring at him like a hawk. Or like a demon. "Not even our bodies are related."

"But I raised you," Alan whispered.

"Don't you remember?" Nick said. "I'm older than your bloodline."

Alan was sitting very still now. His skin was very white.

Nick growled, "Do you like me like Mae?"

Alan shook himself, laughed, said, "Oh, no, I don't like you like I like Mae. I don't like you like Mae does, either." He met Nick's eyes, and it made Nick shiver, because no one else could do that. "I never forget who you are."

Nick watched him, as though a few extra minutes of staring would explain what Alan wanted from him.

Alan said, "It doesn't matter, though, does it? You don't love humans. Not even me."

Nick pushed back from the other side of the table and put his hand in his hair and shouted, "That's not—! You don't _count!_ "

Alan sat impassively, arms crossed.

Nick snarled, "You're the only thing I stayed like this for, anyway!"

Alan's eye twitched, and Nick viciously kicked a kitchen chair.

"I'm offering, you know!" he shouted. He couldn't bear Alan's blank pale stare anymore. He swept around to Alan's side of the table and turned Alan's chin up with rough fingers. He meant them to be gentle. He didn't know how to be gentle.

" _Tell me,_ " he hissed, and Alan shook his head slightly in Nick's grip.

Nick let out a growl of frustration and—and _fear,_ he could admit that—and leaned his head down and kissed Alan. He kissed him with his eyes shut, so Alan couldn't make that cold flat line of an expression at him anymore. For a moment, Nick was afraid that he _could._ Alan's shoulders stayed stiff and his arms stayed crossed and his mouth stayed shut.

"Please," Nick said against Alan's mouth. It was one small noise, sharp and weak and hoarse, and he didn't know what he meant by it. He didn't know if he'd ever meant anything like it before. He didn't know why it made Alan relax under him. For a few seconds he didn't know what to do. It wasn't a battle suddenly, and Nick didn't know what to do with something that wasn't a fight. Their mouths touched against each other, open, without doing anything. Nick shivered.

Alan's hand crept against his neck, pulled him down. Alan was kissing back.

Nick had kissed plenty of humans. He had had plenty of opportunity since this body started growing up a little, and he'd had plenty of opportunity before. Nick did not care too much about humans, as a whole, but he didn't like to waste opportunity. And, as he knew, he was a pretty spectacular specimen at the moment.

But nothing he had done was like kissing Alan.

He couldn't think of words, anymore—they were so easy to lose—so he tried to find where his hands should go that Alan would understand what he would have said. He didn't know what he would have said. One of his hands landed on Alan's ribs, and one on his thigh. Their breathing was loud and Nick's whole face burned, radiating out from where Alan's tongue was catching against his.

"More," Alan let out in a hot breath. Nick couldn't tell if it was a question. But he slid his hand up Alan's leg, and Alan gasped and pulled himself up by Nick's neck.

"What," Nick muttered, flushing, standing like a lump of rock because he didn't know where Alan was leading, and it had never felt so strange-familiar to do this before.

Alan pulled back and raised his eyebrows. He swept an arm in the direction of the table.

"Are you laughing at me?" Nick asked.

"Maybe," Alan said. He leaned back towards the table and pulled Nick with him. Nick caught his arms.

"Are you going to hate me?" he asked. The playfulness slipped.

"No," Alan said. "Not you."

Nick tightened his grip. "Then who? You?"

Alan didn't answer.

Nick pushed away and let go of his arms.

"Nick!" Alan said.

"I won't do that to you," Nick said. "I won't."

He took one step and stopped. Alan's hand was at his elbow. Familiar bones in a familiar hold, meaning something different. Not holding him back to protect him. Not holding him back to protect someone else, either.

"Don't take it back," Alan said behind him.

Nick said, very carefully, "I won't make you hate yourself."

"No," Alan said firmly. "You won't."

Nick turned back, frowning, and said, "I don't believe you. And I don't—"Alan pulled him down again and Nick froze, from being touched and not knowing it was coming. But then Alan kissed him, and Nick came unstuck. He could breathe and he could touch, and then he sort of melted altogether. Alan was already flat on the floor by the time Nick realized where they were going.

"Don't get delicate now," Alan told him, which made Nick laugh, all teeth, and forget to be nervous. He knew about sex and he knew Alan's body.

He buried his smiling teeth against Alan's throat, and Alan's chuckle turned into gasps. His. All his. Nick made him naked an inch at a time, made himself felt at every inch. It was sharp sounds in a sharp silence. It made Nick's insides roll like thunder.

When Nick reached Alan's hip, Alan's fingernails dug into his shoulders.

Nick flinched. He said, "You're mine. Either way."

"Then you might as well take what's yours," Alan said breathlessly. "If you don't mind touching me."

"You want that?"

"I want that."

Nick could see he wanted it. But Nick could be wrong about people. Sometimes. So he had to check, at least.

Alan lifted his hips and Nick took his jeans off him, with an awkward moment where Alan's bad leg didn't cooperate. Nick furrowed his eyebrows and Alan made that face with no expression and the pencil-line mouth.

"Oh, come on," Nick said. "It probably just hasn't gotten the memo about this being the all right kind of incest." Alan put his hands on his face, and Nick worried he'd gotten it wrong, but when Alan's hands moved again, he was grinning wickedly.

Not that he could grin wickedly like Nick could grin wickedly. But it was a fair effort.

"You should dress to match," Alan said. Nick looked at him, completely breakable and just lying there trusting Nick to _not be a demon._

"All right," Nick said.

Nick threw his clothes off a little carelessly, and they ended up somewhere.

Alan said, "Now, really, is that how you treat your nice things?"

"Yes," said Nick. He put his hand on Alan's cock.

Alan had a strange expression and Nick thought he might, too. He moved up between Alan's legs and moved his hand on Alan's cock, and fixed it.

"Oh," said Alan. Nick moved his hand again. " _Oh,_ " said Alan. His face went red, and then his head fell back.

Nick didn't mind the quiet. Alan made sounds, and his body talked, and those things Nick understood. He didn't have to try as hard. He just had to feel _mine, mine, mine_ like a dark bloody pulse under his hand and his breath.

Alan muttered something Nick couldn't hear.

"What?"

"You can be," Alan said more clearly. "I don't care if you leave bruises."

Nick frowned. "Do you mean you don't care, or do you mean you want me to hurt you?"

Alan's eyes squeezed shut. "That—second thing," he said. Nick snarled and grabbed his wrists and pushed them into the linoleum until Alan hissed.

"Fine," Nick spat, and bit the skin at the base of Alan's throat so hard Alan yelped. Nick tasted blood. "Is _that_ what you want?"

Alan didn't answer. Nick moved a hand to his hair and shook him.

"Tell me," he demanded. Alan's eyes slid open. Glassy and dark, and his lips were parting with each breath.

Nick growled and clawed his fingers down Alan's chest. Alan arched and moaned. _I don't understand you._ Nick pushed his leg between Alan's, felt him rub helplessly against Nick's jeans.

"Next time I'll fuck you," Nick said, without knowing why, but Alan whimpered and tightened his legs around Nick's. Nick thumped Alan's hands against the floor.

"Stay," he said. He felt Alan start to shake.

Nick dug the pads of his fingers bruisingly into Alan's sides. He slid down until Alan's cock was pressing against his chest, and his legs were hooked over Nick's arms. Nick bent his head and caught the barest piece of skin between his teeth, an inch from Alan's navel. He bit down.

Alan shouted. Not shouted. It was an animal sound, and it was morphing into gasps and whimpers. Nick moved his teeth up an inch and bit again. Alan's feet kicked at the floor. He was sobbing though his gasps.

"J-just," he was saying. "Shirt, open, _please._ "

Nick didn't mind. Nick pulled back and unbuttoned his shirt, and hunched down again to force Alan's legs wider and bite the thin skin at the joint. Alan howled. He was jerking his hips, his cock rubbing against Nick's chest. Nick forced Alan's hips down and climbed up on his knees.

"No," said Alan. "No, oh my god, don't—" He struggled under Nick's weight breathless and whimpering. Looking for contact. Nick grinned. Alan wasn't weak, but Nick was stronger.

He let go of Alan's hips to push Alan's knees towards his chest. Alan gritted his teeth and curled his toes. Nick bared his teeth, almost a smile. He dropped one hand and squeezed Alan's balls, nastily slow. Hard enough that Alan could feel everything Nick was holding back.

Alan was twisting against the floor, sounds like he was being punched. Nick's hand ran up Alan's cock and tightened. Everything he did made Alan move in a slightly different way. It was human. It was his. It was fascinating.

"Ah," Alan said. His voice was strange and it made Nick feel good, victorious somehow. It was honey-sweet and gravel-rough, and he was doing it. Alan was shaking and digging his nails into the linoleum. "I—I have to—" Alan gulped.

Nick said, "Good. Do it for me." Alan moaned and his eyes rolled back. Nick twisted his hand sharply, and Alan gave a yell more like a scream. He came across his legs and his bare stomach, and on Nick's chest. He jerked against Nick's arm, his cock still in Nick's hand.

Nick waited until Alan quieted and went limp. Then he let go, and bent over him, and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do now.

Humans, he supposed, would hug.

That idea made Nick cringe.

Alan's breathing slowed, and he said, "What about you?"

"Oh," said Nick. He had been thinking about Alan. He hadn't thought about if he could— "That's all right." Like stacking bricks. Damn Mae. He hadn't learned _anything_ about faking human.

Alan got up on his elbows and looked Nick over. He reached out and touched Nick's chest where it was sticky. He winced. "Oh, god," he said.

Nick's heart thumped uncomfortably. "You promised," he said.

"No," Alan said. "I'm—it'll be okay, I just. This doesn't happen to me often, you know. With—anyone." He swallowed. "Ever."

Nick thought that over.

"Oh," he said. He felt a little horrified.

"And to be clear," Alan said, blushing, "you're not a stand-in for Mae. Or anybody else."

"Obviously," Nick said. When Alan was bothering to look straight at him, it was so obvious it wasn't worth saying.

"Also to be clear," Alan said, not looking away, "I would be—happy if it happened again."

"Okay," Nick said.

"Also," Alan started.

"What?"

"We're not telling Mae or Jamie."

Nick raised his eyebrows. Alan shrugged and reached for his jeans. "I want to have at least a couple _people who are,_ " he said.

Nick said, "Okay. Fair. They might run screaming. What will you say about that, then?" He pointed to the bite on Alan's neck, which was still bleeding just a little.

Alan put his fingers on it and looked at the blood that came away. He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I don't know," he said. "Just tell them I got bitten by a vampire bat."


End file.
